


Day 5: Friends

by Amata_Hawke



Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Best Friends, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 09:43:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amata_Hawke/pseuds/Amata_Hawke
Summary: This one is also from a fanfic month. Another one I really enjoyed. There aren't enough fics out there that are just about friends hanging out, and I really enjoyed writing this.





	Day 5: Friends

**Author's Note:**

> This one is also from a fanfic month. Another one I really enjoyed. There aren't enough fics out there that are just about friends hanging out, and I really enjoyed writing this.

Annabelle Hawke would never have guessed that one of her best friends would be the wife of a Templar. Then again, she never would have guessed that she would be run out of her home by a Blight or that she would  _ever_  set foot in Kirkwall. But that was all years ago now.

The clash of steel rang loud in her ears as she parried a blow aside, lifting the shield instinctively to cover her center as she withdrew from her attacker. The one-woman avalanche kept after her, pushing her harder, three heavy blows falling on the shield as Hawke stood her ground, teeth bared in a determined grimace. As the ginger-haired woman pulled back for another vicious slash at her shield arm, Annabelle seized the opening and drove her blade forward to stab her opponent, flinging her shield arm outward to add to her momentum. The other woman twisted in a reflexive reaction, Hawke’s blade sailing harmlessly past her, and suddenly the blade that had been well to her left a moment ago was pressed against her ribs. “Dead,” said her opponent with a tone of firm finality. Anna growled and lowered her weapon, the sword still overly heavy and unfamiliar in her hand. The shield dragged at her arm.

Aveline stepped back, wiping her brow with the back of her sword hand. “Not bad,” she said, smiling with approval, “but you need to learn to attack from behind the shield. Tossing it aside like that leaves you open. It’ll get you killed in close combat.” The guardswoman sheathed her blade and made her way to the bench that ran along the edge of the courtyard, and the pitcher of water that stood there for the recruits who were there to practice forms. Anna copied her awkwardly. Water sounded good, so she followed her friend to the bench.

“I hate close combat,” she groused good-naturedly, pouring herself a flagon of water. “Hard to see what your enemy is doing, with that shield in the way. I bet I could beat you with staves, though.” She downed the whole thing in one long drag.

Aveline gave her a sideways look as she drained her own flagon. “I’ll bet you could,” she admitted, shrugging. “I’m not much use that far away from my opponent. I don’t know how Carver and Fenris manage not to hit the lot of us, with those massive blades they use. Much less you mages.”

It was the height of summer in Kirkwall, much warmer than the summers Anna was used to in Ferelden. Last year has been just as bad, but mere heat wasn’t enough to keep her indoors. Anna actually found the heat quiet agreeable most of the time. It did mean drinking a lot of water, though.

“I’m not fully convinced it’s possible to so much as lift those swords without magic,” Anna deadpanned, raising her eyebrows at Aveline. Fenris’s blade was nearly as big as he was. Watching him wield it in battle was… interesting, to say the least. Hawke gave her head a little shake, trying to dismiss the mental image. She ditched the shield and unbuckled the sword belt, taking up her simple staff instead. The smooth grain of the woods, warmed by the sun, was much more familiar, even friendly in her grip. She gave it a little spin, enjoying the wind it generated as she twirled it with practiced ease.

“Not hitting people with magic is easy,” she added. “All you have to do is pay attention and remember who you  _don’t_  want to fry. It’s when you go around slinging spells everywhere without thinking that you risk hurting your allies, and it’s a very poor mage indeed who does  _that_.” On the last word, she jabbed the staff forward as if to strike a target, shooting a shimmering cloud of frost across the empty courtyard. It melted before it could fall, the water droplets casting a million tiny rainbows on the flagstones before the gentle breeze caught them up and carried then off. Most of them evaporated before they could hit the ground.

Aveline watched her little display with a thoughtful expression. “Why practice other weapon forms, anyway?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Hawke. “I’ve seen you fight more then a few times. You’re far from helpless, even without a staff.”

Anna shrugged, planting the butt of her staff on the stone between her toes, her eyes fixed on the weathered wood grain. “I’m not with the Red Iron anymore. We still get into plenty of trouble. If I can learn to fight without magic, I’ll have a better chance of avoiding Templar notice.”

“You could try your hand at archery,” Aveline pointed out. “Light armor, ranged combat. I would have thought the similarity in style would be appealing for a mage.”

Hawke flashed a mischievous smirk at Aveline. “I  _could_  do that,” she agreed, “but then you and I wouldn’t get to have so much fun playing with pointy things. And then what would we do for girl time?”

Aveline laughed out loud, a booming sound that seemed too big for most women, but which suited Aveline just fine. “Play Wicked Grace like everyone else, I suppose.”

“Somehow, I doubt you’d react will to losing,” Anna teased. “And you would lose. Often.”

Aveline snorted derisively and glanced around the courtyard. She spotted a broom not far away, the kind one uses to push leaves out of a gate rather than to sweep the debris off the kitchen floor, and she took it up with a dubious expression. “Alright,” she said meeting Hawke’s vibrant blue eyes with her own cool, pale green gaze, her voice even. “I taught you a thing or two with a sword and shield. Show me some forms for a staff.”

It was Hawke’s turn to laugh openly, her eyebrows raised in incredulity. “With a broom?” she asked, disbelieving. “That won’t do. Here,” she made a sweeping motion with two fingers at the head of the broom, and the bristled part simply fell away, severed as if by a sudden sword blow. Aveline flinched and tossed Hawke a mocking dirty look. Hawke rolled her eyes in exaggerated irritation. “I told you, I wouldn’t hit you. The broom head would mess everything up. Look, hold it like this.” The banter tugging one corner of her mouth up into a smirk, Hawke demonstrated a basic stance, which Aveline copied. Anna took her through a few basic forms, and Aveline made a good effort. The woman never asked anyone to do anything she wasn’t willing to do herself.

This was much better way to spend a day than with several games of Wicked Grace.


End file.
